Guruvir

Essay #1
Type: Short Short-Story
Word Count: 521

With the bright lights and the rows of parents, I couldn’t have expected to learn something from the hyenas that night. My mom was there with the video camera, my stepsister Corinne in her wheel chair, my Grandma, my step-dad, and my sleeping dad. I was dressed in black (a shadow) and Samantha, my sister, was wearing a brown hyena costume. It was the scene where she had always messed up the dance during rehearsals. Instead of running around in a circle and howling like the other hyena’s she insisted upon hissing, because sometimes she thinks she’s a cat. She did it again this time, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t rehearsal and our director, Debbie, wasn’t there to yell; so the other kids were out of control. There was no circle, and the howling was a combination of howls, laughter, meows, and even some barks. The other shadows, including myself, had given up trying to covertly direct them at this point, and we ran around with them. Maybe it would look normal…
The months of rehearsals with these “special” people couldn’t have prepared me for what was to follow. Despite my talk with Markus about his father and their trip to Germany that we had every week, and Danielle’s story about how she was going to Prom for the fifth time because this was her last year at high school, and Lynn’s actual hyena-like laughter, I was not ready. Despite my sister Samantha’s persistent meowing and hissing, her inability to pronounce my name, and her continued desire to take my stuff, I was not ready. Despite the fact that my ego had been tempered by living with a mentally handicapped sister and having so, I’ve questioned the word “normal” in all aspects life, I was not ready.
The second half of our show consisted of individual dances to choice songs. The shadows didn’t help during this part, because it was without script. So I sat in front of the stage as my sister performed. Samantha, who was the youngest in the group at age 15, danced her far-less salacious version of “Oops I did it Again” by Britney Spears. She was cute with her little hip flicks that made her curls bounce and her waves to my mom as she stopped to smile for the video camera. Next came Maggie. Maggie walked out on stage in her white shirt and blue plants, the crotch navy from the wetness. Maggie didn’t know or didn’t care. There were no signs of reservation as she sang “A Spoon Full of Sugar” with her umbrella swinging through the air. I sat with my mental mouth agape. I was overcome with awe and humility. Here was a person, who would never be better than me at anything as far as societal standards are concerned, and here she was doing something with a smile that I would never have the courage to do.
The learning I have done spans far beyond the categories on your application; I have learned the ineffable truths that linger in the wise ones, like those disguised as hyenas on stage.

Essay #2
Type: Make Up a Question and Answer It
Word Count: 585

A question I think is important:
Your first book is being sent to print, and your editor has just e-mailed you the summary that is supposed to appear on the back of your book. He/She has asked that you write him/her a letter of response including whatever comments, criticism, changes, or suggestions you have regarding the back of your book. Write this letter and include any information you feel to be pertinent.

Brace yourself Wally-
“Most doctors don’t skip the chapters about how contraceptives work in med school, but apparently he was too busy getting it on with the nurse.” That quote is rated R, meaning you only get it if you READ the story. There is no way the back of my book will have the gossip of the week on it. It would exploit my characters and their interests if you showcase them like the headliners of a tabloid. Paige deserves more respect than to be quoted out of context. You can’t use her as a means to lure the masses. The blurb must go.
Beyond the fact that I don’t want the back of my book looking like the newest Clinton scandal, there are, as always, also philosophical reasons for my decision. You know it is my belief that a reader ought to be actively engaged in the process of reading. Therefore, if Hannah’s problem and Paige’s attitude were displayed on the back cover of The Mother’s of My Brothers the readers would be at a loss. The unexpected would be expected. The book’s true purpose would be destroyed, for the experience of life cannot be paraphrased before it happens. We don’t keep cliffs notes by our bed that tells us what to expect each day. Rather everyday holds mysteries: those of personal creation, experience, and joy. Some days are fraught with tragedy. The reader can’t know of Hannah’s tragedy before embarking. The reader needs to become involved in these problems without foresight. Your blurb – though masterly constructed I would like to add – would expose intimate details of my character’s lives. These are details that can’t be shared without a commitment to read the whole.
Our world is dominated by linear time. There is no jumping ahead or foreshadowing. Therefore, by requesting that I help the reader to predict the future, to give them a vague sense of what to expect as they experience my book – which is in itself an experience –I have defeated the very purpose of its conception. The spontaneity of life that I have re-created will be lost the moment we tell the reader that Hannah has had Frank’s baby. There will be no blurb on the back of my book. For reasons of sale I understand that something must be on the back of the book, therefore I have written my suggestion. You would be wise to accept it. ☺
In Alexandra Munoz’s literary debut the reader experiences a stunningly fresh perspective with which to view the world. We find the un-expected and experience the unknown with each new moment in time. The culmination of these experiences has the ability to add depth to our character. However, what we take away from each situation is based on the personal choices of how to experience, process, and respond to life – our perspective. Here is your chance to see the world through the eyes of a narrator who is wise beyond her years and unique in her observations.
Hope you enjoyed my spiel,
Alex

Essay #3
Type: Very Very Personal
Word count: 607

Appreciation often comes with loss, and to digest loss I write. I didn’t completely realize the impact that my stepfather Ernie had on the way I lived my life until I needed to summarize his existence in a few pages. The following is an excerpt from the eulogy that I wrote for Ernie when he unexpectedly passed away on October 10, 2001:
“…As the Persian poet Rumi explains this time of grief holds a hidden sweetness. Ernie left us with great elegance for there was no suffering and no waiting. We must live with that same elegance. To grieve with elegance we must find the sweetness that pervades this moment of loss. Now is not the time to stop loving life – it is the time to love the parts of our lives that Ernie had loved for us.
“Ernie’s spiritual side extended far beyond the reading he did to the very way that he lived his life. It was manifested in the smiles that he gave strangers and the acts of kindness that he extended without reason or regard. He acted from his heart and as a result expected nothing in return. However, as he always believed - you get what you give ten times back. And he got it all back, from all the people that loved him, which was everyone who knew him…He gave people crystals to protect them from the snakes in the grass or the cops with their speed traps. He made bookmarks and birthday cards on Archers hot pressed paper with coffee stains and intricate ink designs. Presents were always things he found in the garage that he had collected over the exciting years of his life. There were morning presents, and Saturday presents, holiday presents, and presents you had given him. With as many crystals, pictures, and presents that Ernie gave to everyone around him the thing most treasured about him was his energy. He made every trip to the mall, everyday at work, every morning at the flea market, and every evening feeding the fish exciting and new. Ernie lived in the moment – more than any other person that I have known – and he lived in it with passion and love. His every step lit up not the room, but life, the act of living itself.
“It is for this reason that he will be sorely missed, but that does not mean this way of living must end with his passing. In fact it is quite the opposite, because Ernie left us all with the greatest gift we could possibly need. He taught us how to live with urgency for the moment and the love of being in the moment. We all experienced it with him at one time or another whether it was running through Jamaica, dancing in Virginia, selling wigs, eating one-eyed jacks and ‘far-out’ omelets, closing deals, losing cars, buying antiques…or sleeping in oil wells. We all experienced it. Now is the time for us to remember the intense vitality that he possessed and to carry it on for him – in the way we live our lives, in the words we speak to others, and in the actions we take to enjoy the art of living.”
Ernie showed me a different way of living, one reasoned only on love. In the wake of his path I am left standing to the side, and it is only from this position that I can see why he chose love as his ultimate end. Love of life is not enough; one must love to live all of life, and because of Ernie I love even these times of sorrow.